The Collector

Party pressed the buzzer for the intercom and waited. Within a matter of moments the screen lit up, and Candi’s beaming smile greeted him.

“Come in babes,” she called with her smile receding to a frown of concern. “Aw, babe, you don’t look too good. Come straight up, we’ve got your meds. You’ll be yourself again in no time.”

Party offered a brief smile of gratitude and pushed the door at the sound of the click as the door unlocked. Trudging slowly upstairs, Party sighed with the effort, glad to finally be within a few minutes of receiving the medication he so desperately needed. He hadn’t said anything to Jet on the way, but he had felt his lungs almost groaning under the effort of trying to breathe. He could sense them clogging with infection and the pain was causing him to suffer more than he was happy to divulge.

It was little wonder that Red had floored him so easily. Realistically, he wondered how he had managed to fight back as much as he had. He knew that the illness was overtaking him fast and if he had to fight Red now, there was simply no way he could manage.

“Party,” Ice greeted him at the top of the stairs and ushered him into the living room. “Man, you look like hell!”
“Thanks, Ice,” Party lifted one corner of his mouth. “Always there with the compliments.”
“Sit down, before you fall down!” he instructed, but Party wasn’t arguing.

As Party moved toward the old but serviceable couch, he saw a small saucer on the table containing four small tablets of two different sizes and a cup of water. He licked his lips, only now realising how parched he was.

“Don’t get excited, babes,” Candi advised. “It’s not good water. Tastes pretty bitter.”
“Can’t be worse than what I’m used to,” Party shrugged, immediately regretting it as the pain seeped out from his chest into his back.

Candi glanced at Ice, surprised at just how ill the young Killjoy looked. Ice merely raised an eyebrow in reply.

“Here,” Ice picked up the saucer and cup and handed them to the exhausted Party, now flopped deep into the semi-comfortable couch.
“What are the others?” Party asked; he knew two had to be Ademen but not what the others were.
“Pain killers, Party,” Candi replied. “You really do look like hell.”
“I’m okay,” he insisted unconvincingly. “Don’t waste your pain killers. The Ademen should be enough.”
“Take them, Party,” Ice admonished. “We have enough and you’re in pain, it’s pretty obvious.”

Party sagged as the couch continued to claim him. Stretching out a hand, he was surprised to see a slight shake in his wrist and he tried to tense to control the movement, but to no avail. Taking the tablets from the saucer, Party tipped all four into his mouth and drank them back with a large swig of water.

“There now,” Candi smiled. “You’ll feel better in no time.”
“Where’s Jet?” Ice asked, taking a seat on the arm of the couch.
“He’s getting the trans am,” Party explained tiredly as he rested his head back against the cushion.
“And then he’s coming here?” Ice pressed.

Party looked up frowning; Ice seemed tense.

“You okay, Ice?”
“Yeah, I just want to know about where Jet’s going to be before…”

Ice cut himself off mid-sentence earning a glare of anger from Candi. Party looked from one to the other.

“Before what?” he turned a worried glance toward Ice who he now noticed had edged closer in the last few seconds.

There was a brief moment of tension before realisation hit. Reaching for his gun, Party struggled to pull it from the holster as the deepness of the couch prevented him from pulling his arm back fully. Ice leapt forward, reaching for Party’s hand but the Killjoy was ahead of him. Raising his arm, Party slammed the side of his fist into the other man’s face, catching his mouth and tip of his nose. Ice screamed as his lip split open, his teeth slicing clean through the skin. Blood spattered on his chin and clothes as he momentarily pulled back, clutching his mouth with a blood sodden hand.

“Fuck you, Party!”

The words emerged pained and partly muffled by his unwillingness to move his split lip. Candi jumped backwards a few paces as Party rolled from the sofa, breathing hard in physical distress. He felt as if his lungs would burst from the effort, but worse than that, the room was moving in and out of focus.

Unable to coordinate his movements to push himself to his feet, Party fell backwards, staring up in confusion as he leaned back on his elbows.

“They weren’t pain killers, babes,” Candi chuckled as Ice landed a vicious kick to the dazed Killjoy’s side.

Gasping with pain, Party collapsed fully onto his back, his head swimming, his arm raised defensively as Ice swung his leg once more, connecting with Party’s lower back, near his kidneys. The force of the brutal kick enough to flip him onto his stomach. Clawing uselessly at the floor, Party desperately tried to hold onto consciousness but he knew it was slipping away as fast as his freedom.

“Enough!” came a man’s voice.
“One more!” Ice demanded angrily.

Party’s eyes were already closed, his arms and legs too weak to move. He knew there was nothing he could do to prevent this. All he could do was pray to the Phoenix Witch that Jet wouldn’t fall into the same trap.

“We’re not paying you to deliver them damaged.”

They were the last words Party heard before slipping into a deep enforced sleep.

*

“You’re not happy, are you?” Red looked briefly over at Jet before returning her eyes to the road ahead.
“Hmm?” Jet replied without looking up, as he triangulated the signal from the tracking device. “Are you talking on an existential level or about something specific?”
“What are the chances I’m trying to have a philosophical debate with you?” she frowned unimpressed by his mischievous reply.

Jet chuckled softly and smiled broadly with satisfaction as a small red light flickered to life on the screen.

“Keep going straight ahead,” he instructed.
“Are you serious?” Red asked causing Jet to look up and laugh as he saw the single track stretched out ahead towards the opposite end of town with no turns or side roads.

The town was called Dust Bowl for a reason. It had once been a large town, a long time ago but at some point in its history a direct hit with a cluster of EM Spike Mines had not only destroyed the middle of the town, but had left a large crater. Now, years later, the crater, which had been roughly half a mile in diameter, had largely been filled by the constantly shifting desert and a road built across to connect the two parts of the town.

“Absolutely,” he turned to look at Red. “Very smooth driving by the way. This van is notoriously difficult to handle.”
“Can’t be worse than the last wreck I drove,” Red shrugged.
“What was it?” Jet raised a curious eyebrow.

Red laughed, partly with embarrassment and partly with pride in having found a car that she believed no one could top for shocking drives.

“A 1982 Iron Duke.”

She beamed a knowing smile at him, watching as Jet practically dissolved with helpless laughter. It was infectious. Jet’s face creased with quivering lines as he shook, his mouth stretched to its limits, his eyes squeezed shut with tears of absolute joy forced out at the corners. Bent forward slightly, his shoulders rose and fell swiftly as he gasped for breath, his throat emitting high pitched noises in between snorts of laughter and deep throaty chuckles.

The pair laughed, giggled and coughed, setting each other off with each other’s sounds and expressions. When one would start to calm, the briefest of glances was all it took to start up again. They were approaching the other side of the town and having to calm themselves. The occasional giggle or chuckle still permeated the otherwise stillness inside the cab of the van.

“Was it yours?” Jet asked quietly, trying not to set himself off again.
“No,” Red grinned. “I actually stole it.”

The revelation served only to amuse him all the more – the idea that she had taken it by choice making the idea of driving such a dire vehicle even worse.

“Which way?” Red cut through his laughter as she heard the tracker beeping insistently.
“Oh,” Jet looked at the device, pushing the tears from his eyes. “Left,” he managed to state the instruction before they missed their turn.

Composing himself, Jet looked at the tracker then up at the road ahead.

“I know where it is,” he nodded. “There’s an underground garage up the road about a mile. I reckon that’s where he’s parked it.”
“So, what? We take both? Leave the van there and take the trans am?” Red asked.
“We leave the van. The trans am is faster and more manoeuvrable. What was it you wanted to know before?” he asked.
“I said, you’re not happy, are you? About leaving Party on his own.”
“No,” Jet replied with a deep sigh. “I mean, I know he’s not really alone, he’s with Candi and Ice.”
“At least he let you drop him at their place instead of where he wanted you to,” Red offered encouragement.
“I hope you realise how much that means he’s come around to you?” Jet answered. “That’s huge for Party.”
“He’s not big on trust,” Red replied – it was a statement not a question.
“No,” Jet shook his head. “Right turn here,” he pointed to the next road.
“But he trusts Candi?” Red asked as she turned the wheel of the van and headed down the ramp into the garage.
“Yeah, we’ve known them years,” he turned a puzzled glance in Red’s direction. “Why?”
“Well, I don’t know,” Red shrugged. “Maybe I’m just naturally suspicious too, but she just seems to be a common denominator.”
“No,” Jet shook his head. “I see why you’d think that; Ghoul and Kobra were both heading to Candi’s, but neither of them got there. Ghoul was taken in the street and Kobra in the desert.”
“So she says,” Red frowned.
“You were in the car,” Jet pointed out, as Red parked the van alongside the trans am. “Kobra was definitely in the desert, and there was no mistaking the skid marks on the road.”
“I suppose,” Red shrugged. “But she did know Kobra had been taken. Remember she mentioned it?”
“No, she shot me down for suggesting that she’d fail to contact me about it if she already knew.”

Red switched off the engine as she mulled over the conversation in her mind, trying to remember the exact words. As she turned to look at Jet, her eyes widened as she noticed the fixed expression on his face. His eyes glazed, lips slightly parted and skin pale.

“Jet?” she ventured.
“You’re right,” he murmured. “All I said was he’d been ambushed. She said he’d been taken. There’s only one way she could know!”

Reaching for the radio clipped to his belt, Jet quickly set the frequency and pressed the device’s trigger.

“Party!” he yelled. “Party! Answer me!”

Receiving no response, Jet and Red were already climbing out of the van and heading to the trans am. Jet’s eyes blazing with deep set anger at being betrayed by two people they had saved from certain death years earlier. Nothing was going to save them from him!

Notes